Start at the Beginning
by Marika Webster
Summary: When Relena des tragically in a shuttle accident, one pilot is left alone to deal with the loss privately.


A/N I wrote this some time ago and came across it while going through some old material sitting on my computer today. It deals with the impact of a life cut short on those left behind. I hope you enjoy it. 

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Start at the Beginning

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"It all seems like it was so long ago. It's strange isn't it how time ceases 

to have meaning. I suppose I just thought that it would all go away. They

told me to come here. So I did. I don't really know why I even showed up." 

"Can you tell me why that is?" Watery grey eyes stared from behind their

the bespeckled facade of the old man. His patient thought him to appear as

more an ancient mage, those eyes all-knowing, yet betraying nothing of the 

secrets that had been entrusted to him over the decades. 

The young man folded his hand primly in his lap and returned the gaze of the

doctor. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk, an odd sight juxtaposed 

on such a flawless surface. "Anything to shut them up." That silky voice 

hardened almost imperceptibly. ""It's simple. The entire situation is 

ridiculously simple. She's dead. I'm not. End of story." 

"Evidently that's not the end of the story, or you wouldn't be sitting in that 

chair, would you?" 

Agitation flickered over that face and the smirk faded. "I don't need to be 

here." 

There was a brief silence before the wizened doctor cleared his throat. The 

pen, ever present, tapped lightly upon a notepad. It was grasped loosely in a 

weathered grey hand that belied the years of it's owner. "If that were true 

you would have canceled.  There's a part of you that wants to be here." 

"Whatever. What do I do?"

"Talk." 

"What?"

"Just start talking, that's why you're here." Silence fell once more in its

awkward way, settling over the two occupants of the small office. 

"I don't know what to say. She's dead. Period." The lie fell easily from his 

lips. It had become so simple to lie, to tell those falsehoods that kept him 

afloat. His eyes dropped to the worn, beaten sneakers upon his feet. And he 

remembered something then. "She gave me these. She told me that I was too 

uptight. I needed to relax. Said that every person needed a pair of sneakers 

to wear, even if only once. Everyone laughed that she was telling me of all 

people to relax. They didn't seem to understand at all. None of them really 

do. Relena was different from every other person in this world. She was a 

woman, and an eternal child at the same time, always believing in the good

that she said was in every person... she said I was good." Eyes blinked. The

young man sniffled then, surprised that he allowed himself this privilege. 

"And you aren't good?" 

"Of course not. Only God can make good people, she said." 

"Do you believe in God?" 

"I don't want to talk about that." The force of the statement eradicate any 

predilection the old man might have to pursue this avenue of exploration. 

Instantly there was a smile and a non-chalant wave of the hand. "I'd rather 

talk about Relena." 

"What about your friends?" 

"They're alright. They mean well. Heero told me he had gone to see a doctor 

and it had helped him alot. That's what gave Duo the idea that I should go. 

The others agreed with him." He hesitated, but continued. "Heero's always been

quiet, but it got worse after the war was over. He avoided Relena like the 

plague, but she couldn't seem to get it through her skull that he didn't want

her. Even after restraining orders, she persisted. I guess it was for the best

that she do it though, otherwise they would have never married and I wouldn't 

have two wonderful nieces. Not really my nieces of course. But you understand.

Heero's really coming along well." 

"What about the others?" 

There was a pause as the boy ran a hand through his hair, uncaring about the 

usually meticulously styled locks. "Duo is very vocal about the whole thing. 

In a very Duoish sort of way, I suppose I can take comfort in it. He's sent 

letters to her. He writes them and then sets them on fire. He told Marissa 

that the angels would take it to Relena. Marissa is Heero and Relena's 

younger daughter. She's only 3, so it was hard for Heero to explain it to her. 

Duo cut his hair about a week after we buried her. He said that he'd finally 

realized that the only way to honor the dead was to live. And that by keeping 

the braid, he was living in the past. I think he aged 10 years in a month. He 

changed so much I barely recognized him. He was so stoic about the entire 

thing that it made me sick. I hated it." 

"What did you hate more? That he was getting on with his life or that he was 

doing it so quickly?" The softly voice question brought a non-reaction from 

the young man in the leather chair. 

"Neither. It was just so morbid. Quatre was the worst. He's spent the last 6 

months crying himself to sleep, clutching his me as though he were a 

lifeline. I can't really address one without the other. Me and Quatre 

are integral to one another. One cannot exist without the other. Fear of 

being alone, or being in love... whatever. It's all the same, essentially. 

Quatre is a person who needs to be surrounded by beauty at all costs. During 

the war, he spent his days consumed by the lives he'd taken. That burden he'd 

never really shaken off. He just never has been able to understand that in 

the heat of battle certain sacrifices must be made. Wufei understands. He 

understands all too well. He saw his entire colony destroyed in one fell 

swoop." The patient trailed off, sitting in sullen silence for a moment.

"She had no right to go and leave me. It's not fair. Someone who's entire life

if devoted to other people should just leave! It's wrong!" The vehemence 

carried the recognizable note of a broken man who refused to acknowledge his 

loss. "She couldn't just die. She's... gone." 

"Do you believe in God?" 

"I... there's no proof of God. No way to hold him in your hands, or stare 

into his face. You can't get an audible answer when you talk to him. God

doesn't fit into any of my analytical statistics. But... if you tell me that 

it's all for nothing, then what's the point? I mean... there has to be some 

way to account for all the things that man can't understand. The cosmos, the 

earth, children, love. You can't put a scientific spin on those tings. My 

answer is yes. Yes, I believe in God. But not an angry, mean God. Not a God 

that will kill you for saying the wrong thing or looking at someone the wrong

way. I don't believe in the academic God that wants you to go evangelize. I 

don't believe in the a God that tell televangelists to take advantage of sick

old people and shut-ins. The God I believe in is far more... neutral. I can't 

really explain it. I mean, he must have a plan right? For taking Relena? 

because if he doesn't then I want to know what the hell is going on. I should 

have been on that shuttle with her. I should have been sitting next to her and 

listening to her chatter about meaningless drivel." Harsh sobs began wracking the young man's body as he held himself in check. 

"I don't understand this. I just want it all to go away." 

"What are you afraid of?" 

"I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid of being me. I don't want to die. Ever. Not

when I'm young... or old... ever. I don't want to die. I want to live, and I 

want to live well." The sobs came at regular intervals now, heaving the body

of the boy they belonged to. 

"So what can you do to live?" 

There was a sudden cessation of the sobs as the boy raised tired, bleary eyes 

to the doctor. His voice was weak. "I can breathe. I can feel. I can remember.

Because that's all I know how to do. I don't know where to start." 

"Start at the beginning." 

There was a slight hesitation as she patient considered this. Behind him lay 

the past, grim and unchangeable. But before him, the future seemed even more 

terrifying. He swallowed hard and drew in a sharp breath, voice now oddly 

tinged with a hidden strength. "My name is Trowa Barton."

~~**~~**~~**~~Finis~~**~~**~~**~~


End file.
